Vignettes
by greysnyper
Summary: Luthor, nice hair and JLA rescue missions.
1. Chapter 1

This is not revenge

1.

This is not revenge.

Luthor looks up from his computer and Tim hands him another folder. "These came in from Engineering," he states.

The President of LexCorp accepts the manila envelope and frowns. "I was told to expect these tomorrow."

Tim doesn't blink, even though it's humid in the office and he's chaffing in his suit. Luthor could afford the best in climate control, except that he has just spent the last week wandering in the Arctic cold, trying to infiltrate into Superman's Fortress. The humidity is deliberate proof of the lengths one would go to prove something...

Nobody's supposed to know this, though. Tim knows. He answers his boss with a, "I encouraged the team to make this a priority."

"It should have already been a priority," Luthor mutters.

In the wait after, Tim supposes that an added response is expected. He hesitates before saying, "and I helped them."

Dropping his attention back to his work, Lex Luthor tells Tim, "you'll never get anywhere if you don't immediately show the world who you are and what you can do, Mr. Drake. First impressions."

It's not common for the man running the company (and half of America's economy) to offer friendly business advice. Tim identifies that, just as he notes the irony of him working for Luthor, and his own awareness of failed first impressions.

'_Batman needs a Robin'_ should not be answered with a strict and unarguable _'go home.'_ But this isn't revenge for that rejection...

Taking a respective step back, Tim dips his head to his boss and says, "I'm not trying to make a reputation on the backs of my coworkers, Mr. Luthor, Sir."

He notes the way Lex pauses, as if prepared to dismiss him for being too meek. A sharp eye glances up. Perhaps a, '_your father is a good business man, Tim. But being humble gets you nowhere.'_

Especially for Lex Luthor, where being the honest, hard-working American means nothing when gods are flying about playing the role for you.

Tim shrugs. "I also don't have to announce who I am and what I can do when I know how keen my employer's attention is."

There's something in Luthor's stare. It could be approval. "Do you find it hot in here?"

"Not if you don't," Tim's careful to say. It's a natural response from an eager-to-please grunt. Everyone is meant to think that Lex Luthor had spent the last month in the Caribbean. It's probably a bad time to play dumb after building up a competency with Luthor, but to get closer to the man Tim needs to pique his interest.

"Would you be so kind as to...encourage the prompt return of my Arctic Analysis Reports?"

Tim Drake sets himself, a slight grin revealed as he says, "you're the boss."

And yes, Lex Luthor is Tim's boss. Not Tim's first choice, but this isn't revenge.

It's because Tim _is_ good at it. He's always been good, and it means nothing bad if Luthor is the first to realize it.

Tim lets himself get halfway to the door before he pauses. "I'm sorry Sir, but I didn't know we had someone analyzing the Arctic. Where do I find these reports?"

"Basement," comes a cool answer. "And deliver them personally, Mr. Drake. I think you could help me go over them."

As Tim exits from under the gaze of Luthor--the man out to kill Superman--he feels a slight voice (all his own)which warns him of how he could be over the edge already. He felt the same meeting Dick, and facing Two-Face. This is dangerous.

Batman may not come forward before Luthor (who is a genius; this Tim has never doubted) finds out just _what_ Tim knows.

Fame, fortune, all the things Luthor can give him. No. This was never about revenge or making a new name for himself.

"So dangerous," Tim murmurs under his breath as he lets the conditioned air shiver across him. But like Batman's Robin, so worth it.

Tim may be rejected, but it just means that plans have changed. Batman may not want a Robin, but he cannot keep Tim from being Tim. And at some point, Bruce _will_ want him.

Tim just hopes that it's more than what Luthor wants.

2.

There had been explosions on this mission. Acrid plumes of burnt rubber and toxic chemicals. It's impossible not to take the battlefield home, caked with the grime and sweat of the day.

Regardless, Robin's hair stays straight and from across the Tower rec-room, Kon-El can make out the fresh scent of something clean. They've only just walked in, so Tim's had no time to wash up. Everyone else just looks like hell.

Superboy would comment on it, if only Bat Shampoo didn't sound gayer than revealing his newfound ability: super-smell.

Tim's smart enough to call him on it, too. So Kon keeps quiet and tries not to draw Boy Wonder's attention by staring.

3.

It's so backwards. The more Kon-El looks through the glass of the stasis-field, the more he thinks of how reverted it all feels.

He should be on the inside, looking out. Kon's done it his whole life. Just one test-tube after another; the world converted into a bubble of liquid silence.

They have Robin this time, though. And they don't know Kon's watching.

"You get to use this once," Batman had said, being strict and angry. It confuses the Boy of Steel as to why he'd even be invited into the rescue in the first place if he's so liable to fail.

Not that Kon's complaining about being picked to save his friend. Hell, if he had known Robin had been kidnapped, he'd be tearing through walls recklessly without Batman's enthusiasm; more likely in spite of--

Back to basics, though. Kon gets one shot at being invisible. Something Mr. Miracle had cooked up, which Batman kept for an occasion like this. Use it to get in, retrieve the hostage, smash things on the way out. It's like a compromise plan drawn up between Tim and Kon--subtle and strong.

Looking at Robin, stripped down and hardly moving behind the glass case, it almost bothers Superboy to think of Tim as consenting in this. Or, that was the impression gained from his brief tenure in the Cave.

"Robin's been kidnapped. I didn't expect Waller to target him, but he was aware of the potential and acted accordingly," Batman explained then.

So...ambush? A willing ambush?

"It's meant as a trap," Batman had continued. Superman had stood saying nothing. Listening in that way that he does, as if he's privy to all--exuding his confidence in everyone. "Kal and I can't be the ones to break Tim out. That's what Waller's waiting for. I've got Nightwing busy elsewhere. Can you do it?"

Superman's vote of assurance, maybe even _recommendation_ of Kon-El's abilities, well, it means a lot in optimism-points. And Kon's never needed a boost to his ego but...well, this is his _first_ Bat-Mission. Bart's had one already (says Bart) but even that's not what matters.

What matters is whether Tim's okay with _any_ of this.

"He's counting on you," Batman has told Kon; the last thing said. The tone of a threat.

Somehow, Superman's endorsement and Batman's _approval_, they just fall short of enough encouragement when Kon thinks about his friend depending on him.

_Depending_!

It seems, almost wrong. Backwards.

Like Kon should be on the inside, trapped. Waiting.

There's the slow drifting motion, the peaceful look on Robin's face. The tubes and wires make Kon's skin crawl, and the more he waits, the more he wonders if his chances of successfully doing this diminish.

The room is packed with equipment and guards. The scientists are lacking, though they probably just put Tim in stasis to confirm whether or not he was really human. Not a lot of interest in human subjects, Kon notes. Tim's just bait now.

Which also falls severely short on how it should be.

Superboy glances at the shapes moving in the reflection marring him from Tim. Nine men, armed. Kon took the care to count them as he ghosted in. As careful as he thinks he's being, he knows Robin would have performed a hundred additional safeguards had their roles been reversed.

Guns don't bother Kon, except that this is Waller. She's a bitch and half-expecting Superman. There's probably Kryptonite in some or all of them. They're also made of lead so Kon can't peek.

Okay.

He exhales and turns carefully in the air. He's been hovering for twenty minutes. He knows the machines enough to guess that there aren't unexpected traps. Kal had given him a crash-course in what to look for, but Kon's been around stasis-fields for huge portions of his life. It gives him some confidence. Tim's likely just hooked up to simple things. Once Kon acts, he could disengage them safely in an instant.

When other kids learnt to tie their shoes, Kon had pulled wires carefully and expertly from his veins. (Tim had probably saved the Pope by the equivalent point of his life, but Kon's not thinking of how inept he is compared to Robin. Nope, not at all. Focus on the rescue, Kon. _Focus_!)

A nagging thought returns, reminding Kon that perhaps it won't _be_ so simple--that they had all been mislead and something will go horribly wrong the moment he acts. And yet, a quiet part of Superboy hums that it's always been that way. Robin faces such odds in all of his missions, and Kon's never seen it phase him.

Yeah, he _can_ do this.

He takes one last glance back over his shoulder at Tim's guards, unaware of him. Waller's best attempt to divide up the world's finest are in the room, and Kon is going to give up his hiding. He'll have to break Tim free and throw up his telekinesis when hell breaks loose. He'll have to divide his attention, and he's strongly thinking that it will be too much too fast.

Which is why his defence only has to last a few seconds. Just enough to get done and get out. Subtle, and strong.

_What were you thinking when you were caught?_ he wonders, reaching out to touch the glass. The contact is deliberate and Kon feels Mr. Miracle's device fall off of him--a non-feeling of sorts, like having one's own presence suddenly scare you. His reflection stares back, and Tim does nothing. _Did you let them get you because you knew someone would pull you out?_

The glass explodes outwards as trained fingers find their mark.

"Hey!" starts the commotion. "You're not supposed to be here!"

It's so backwards, Kon thinks. Because he _is_ supposed to be here.

On the other-side, or not at all, or exactly where he is already. These are the places for him.


	2. Chapter 2

If there were a world outside of Gotham, Tim sometimes thinks he'd get the hell out of this town

If there were a world outside of Gotham, Tim sometimes thinks he'd get the hell out of this town. Nothing good comes out of struggling.

When he had trained with Bruce, the man had taught Tim that by the point of a struggle, it was already too late. But could the man take his own advice as the city starts to burn?

No.

And no, Tim won't learn from that either, failing just as Dick always does. Staying.

Waiting.

His lip is a split-mixture of iron and grime. His balance wants to teeter over the edge, a zip-line close to his side. A flap of angry cape, unable to whip free. The needed friend, hovering just behind and over his shoulder...

"Timmy."

It's a valid question. When did he ever become this cynical?

"Get out of Gotham, Kon." He drops gaze down, not turning. A private grin appreciating the offer, depreciating the path here. The distance down. _I don't want you to understand._

Yet clearly, he'd give anything to exchange the empathy. That is, if there were anything left to give.

"Get out of my town."

While you can.


End file.
